A PANSY SHOW.
Three children sat in a row on a fence;
They knew not what to do;
They were tired of playing their old games,
And wished for something new.
They looked around with discontent,
'Till they saw the pansy bed,
Where each bright blossom, in purple and gold,
Was nodding its royal head.
Then one of the children cried aloud:
"Let's have a pansy show;
We can dress the flowers and make them look
Just like people, you know."
They gathered the velvet pansies,
And when dressed in green and white.
They were placed in groups on the smooth green grass—
It was truly a fairy sight.
They charged five pins admission
To see the wonderful flowers;
In this way they made great profits,
And spent many pleasant hours.
In summer you will see the pansies,
On their faces an eager glow,
Waiting to be picked by the children,
And placed in the flower show.
Myra A. Scott.
Cleveland, Ohio.
Newmarket, Tennessee.
A kind uncle, away off in New Jersey, sends me Harper's Young People. Unless you have been a little country girl ten years old, like me, you can not imagine what pleasure it gives me, or how eagerly I run to meet brother Bertram when he brings the mail on Thursdays. Bertie, who is twelve years old, goes to school, while I have to stay at home and help to take care of a baby brother and sister (twins) so sweet and cunning that I wish you could see them. The little boy is named after grandpa, and the girl after uncle Jesse B., by adding an i to Jesse. Papa told me I must not use many capital I's if I wrote you a letter; but how else can I tell you that I ride six miles on horseback once a week, to take a music lesson, on a dear old horse (we call her Kate) so faithful and true that I am sure Toby Tyler and the boys would be delighted to have her in their circus, but I can't spare her? Papa is a farmer, and we make pets of colts and calves and lambs and pigs, but I do not give as much attention to them as I do to books and the babies. I have a little sister Dora, four years old, who came running in one evening and said, "Mamma, the gipperwills are singing, and it is time to go barefooted." She had been told that when the whippoorwills sing there is no danger of catching cold. My home is on a high location, overlooking a beautiful valley—a landscape that never fails to please all who look upon it. Here, if I can not go to school. I try to learn, and be happy and busy and helpful to mamma.
Gertrude Elizabeth W.
What fun it must be to take care of twins! Do they look very much alike, and how old are they? You ought to have said more about them, dear. Although you can not attend school, you are learning a great many pleasant things at home, as your letter shows. The I's are not too numerous. I shall think of Bertie carrying Young People home from the office on Thursdays, and fancy my little correspondent flying down the garden walk to meet him as he stops at the gate.
Springfield, Kentucky.
My home is in Springfield. I have been wanting to write a letter for the Young People since I first took it, which was last January, but I was timid about doing it. My papa gave the paper to me as a New-Year's gift, and I have had more than a dollar and a half's worth of pleasure from it already. I have seen so much about "Toby Tyler" in the letters, but have never seen anything about him in the numbers, and my mamma reads everything in them to me; so please tell me where to find him. I am seven and a half years old; have never been to school, but am taught at home; will start in a week or two. I am the only child, and mamma says she will be too lonely without me; but I tell her she must let me learn and be a smart little girl. I have a lot of pets: a beautiful Esquimau dog just one year younger than I, a canary-bird, and a lot of the prettiest little chickens; but my kitten has run away, or has been killed. He was such a pet, because he was so smart, and performed so many tricks. I am going to have a pony as soon as I learn to ride. I have the money, given to me by my uncle; he gave me one hundred dollars six months ago, and I loaned it to papa at ten per cent. interest. I have written 'most too long a letter, but please publish it if you can.
Carrie S.
The story of "Toby Tyler" was begun in No. 58, Vol. II., of Harper's Young People. The same Toby is the hero of "Mr. Stubbs's Brother"; but if you are very anxious to read all the adventures of a little boy who was once so foolish as to run away from his kind uncle Daniel and travel with a circus, you must send for Toby Tyler, which the Messrs. Harper publish in a very pretty little book by itself. The price is $1. I hope you will enjoy school, and surprise mamma by learning very fast. When the pony is bought, you must write again, and tell me his name, and all about your charming rides.
Woodside (near Lincolnton), North Carolina.
My dear "Young People,"—It has been quite a while since I have written a letter to you all. I had books and papers enough, thanks to your kind help, and so I have not had any need to call upon your generosity again. Our school, you will be glad to know, still keeps on in a very encouraging way. I had only a few dollars sent for the building, and had almost despaired of ever getting one, when one day I received a letter from a very kind gentleman, who wrote that if we were willing to give the land to the diocese, and build a chapel, he could raise us money to do it. You may be sure we were only too glad to do so, and he did his part very soon. We have the building framed, all the lumber is ready, and the carpenter promises that he will soon have it done. We have the windows, sent by the same kind gentleman, of colored and ground glass, and the rector in Lincolnton will give our school one service each month. The people have no preaching now except from preachers of their own race, who are often very ignorant men. We hope this will be a great help in educating the children and their parents, and making them good and happy. I will tell you about it when church begins. Your friend,
Mrs. Richardson.
Kau, Hawaii, Sandwich Islands.
I like "Toby Tyler" and "Talking Leaves" the best of all the stories. I have a pet rooster; his name is Whitehead, because when little he had a white spot on the top of his head. He is so tame that my little sister can take him by the tail and drive him all around the yard like a dog, and he will not try to get away; and when we have a bunch of bananas on the veranda hanging up over the railing, he will fly up on the railing and pull the bananas off the bunch, and drop them down for the hens that are on the ground below him. I have a handsome parrot; he is yellow, green, blue, red, and black. His name is Dandy, but he calls himself Polly.
We live about twenty-five miles from the volcano Kilauea, and every night when I go to bed I look out of the window of my bedroom, and can see the light of it, sometimes bright and sometimes faint.
May L. H.
Tell your sister to take hold of the rooster's tail very gently. He is very kind to pick bananas for the hens. Charlotte's letter, which came with yours, will appear in a future number.
Tarrytown, New York.
I am ten years old, and hope you will put my piece of poetry in the poets' corner: